Seen over the weekend…

A large turtle laying eggs on a shore at Tangalle, two ireful elephants bashing their skulls together just a few feet away that we could hear their craniums collide, shark infested waters and the famed chocolate rotti from the No.1 Rotti shop at Hikka.

Walk to the beach

Yeah, that was some holiday! But this post is more about food. Particularly, popular Lankan food that I am ashamed to say I had never tried till last weekend.

Starting off with that chocolate rotti. It wasn’t just eyeballed, it was tucked away where it rightfully belonged- in my tummy. I’d heard endless praising of the Hikka Rotti shop and I was determined to pop in and let my palate be the judge of these rottis that had been deemed food of the gods.

Rotti Heaven

On our way back from Tangalle, we stopped over at the No. 1 Rotti shop for a rather late lunch. Having wolfed down a prawn and cheese rotti followed by a chocolate and banana rotti topped with chocolate ice cream, I must say these rottis aren’t the typical stuff you get here in Colombo. I’d imagined something more parata-like, but while they’re fairly similar to paratas, these rottis aren’t as heavy and they’re a bit on the crispy side.

Light, crispy, moist and with ‘fillings’ of just about everything imaginable, you can bet I’m a fan!

Midnight Milo

We reached home around 7pm, but sister-2 and I had to drive back to Wellawatta at 10:30pm to pick up sister-1, from a friend’s place at 12am. So sis 2 and I drove along Wellawata in search of something to do… or eat (honestly, there’s no better way to kill time than tickling your taste buds with mouth watering delectables). Cruising along the road, we were once again struck with the stark realisation that Sri Lanka has no nightlife. The good people of Sri Lanka are paid a visit by the Sandman at 9pm.

All the shops were closed. All except for Pillawoos. A glimmer of light in the dusky street, we were drawn to it like fireflies to a light bulb. Parked outside the only drive-in restaurant in Colombo (correct me if I’m wrong), a friendly looking bloke dressed in shirt and sarong, moseyed over to our car and asked us for our order. We weren’t particularly hungry, so we asked for two iced Milos. Now, I’ve never really tried their Ice Milo before but from what I’d heard it was suppose to be unparalleled! It surpasses the homemade stuff your mum makes, or so I’d been told.

Taking a sip from the large glass of chocolate milk with what looked like a miniature iceberg floating on the top, I’d say it was only just alright. Call me what you will but that’s what I think of it!

It was however, expertly made teh-tarik style. Teh-tarik is how Malaysian street tea is made. ‘Tarik’ means to pull and of course ‘teh’ means tea, so it roughly translates into ‘pulled tea’. Prepared in this fashion you don’t find any malty chocolate bits in the drink.

Of course it doesn’t take you an hour and a half to drink a glass of milk, so once we were done we drove up to sister-1’s friend’s house, pushed the seats back and slept in the car. We were exhausted! It had been a long drive back from Tangalle!

Food aside, the only damper about the holiday is that I managed to get a funny sunburn. I wore my huge heavy duty sunglasses the whole time which has left my entire face burnt brown except for two large circles around my eyes…

I look like this now…

I Lost The Fork

Well not really ‘lost’, I think the appropriate word would be ‘abandoned’. Though I never meant to…

I was willing to sacrifice my life in retrieving the ‘pronged-one’ from the cigarette stub and crow poop covered roof top. But I was forcefully hauled away by Tulie, leaving the fork at the mercy of the elements, to choke on the dying breath of cigarette stubs and to fight off violent crows and dodge their toxic poop! Damning my mom’s exquisite piece of cutlery for all of eternity.

The particular fork belonged to a set that was treasured by my mom. Treasured ‘cause she bought it over thirty years ago (looong before I was born) on one of her jaunts to the UK and it cost quite a pretty penny.

I, knowing full well that those were her fancy forks, picked the utensil as my aid to eating lunch at the office. For no particular reason apart from it being within easy reach when I was in a hurry one morning.

So a few days back, after lunch I found myself on the 3^rd floor balcony at the office with Tulie, making fun of the ant-sized people below. I happened to be holding the fork at the time, and somehow it slipped out of my grip, plummeted a floor down and with an echoing clank landed precariously on the slanting roof.

The chilling echo was a cry for help! I had to retrieve forky (as I have affectionately named him for convenience of writing this post)!

Mission: F.I.L.I.B.U.S.T.E.R

Scrambling to the 2^nd floor, I found a window leading right to that filthy roof! I could see forky through the blue tinted glass, so near but yet so far. Tulie and I frantically tried to unlatch the large window, all the while ignoring the curious looks being shot our way and the jesting murmurs of “suicide kara ganna hadanawada danne”.

But our attempts were to no avail. We got a big strong peon to help. The window refused to budge. It was unanimously decided that the window was permanently jammed shut.

Mission: F.R.O.G –

Scouting around I found another window about 5 feet from the ground, leading to a sliver of a balcony that was fitted with air conditioners. If I climbed out the window, hopped from one air conditioner to the next, reaching the end of the balcony, all I had to do was make a little leap from the edge of the balcony onto the slanting roof and rescue forky! Simple!

Tulie however, seemed to think forky wasn’t worth risking my life over (between the sliver-balcony and the slanting roof, was a sheer drop to the gravelly earth). Before I could fetch a chair to give me some leverage to scramble out the window, Tulie (and I’m not exaggerating) yanked me away from the window and hauled me back into the office, deaf to my protests.

A week later, my mom noticed the missing fork. I had to come clean, but surprisingly she wasn’t as upset by it as I thought she would be! Having broken her crystal bowl, shattered her glassware, ruined the ornaments she’d collected from her travels across the world while using them as toys- over the years my mom has grown callous to the typhoon destruction caused by her babies.

Note: A week later, the fork was missing and the roof cleaned of the cigarette stubs and crow poop! Damn! There was a way down there.

Hyperchondriac

We’ve all heard of hypochondriacs but there doesn’t seem to be a term for those of us who don’t care much about our health or who are in denial about being sick.

So I’ve coined the term ‘hypERchondriac’, a logical antonym. And that’s what I am. Well not that I should care much about my health given that I have an incredible immune system. Although as I type up this post I’m suffering from the symptoms of the blasted viral flu that’s being doing its rounds- Fever, weak muscles that have rendered me immobile, trembling, breathing in large loud gasp like Darth Vader and a sore throat.

Why has my incredible immune system failed me? Read on… (except for those of you with a weak constitution. You have been warned)

Went to bed late on Friday, so after just three hours of sleep I found myself rushing around a hospital all morning ’cause my mom had to undergo surgery. Getting drenched in the rain in search of a pharmacy that sold her particular brand of pressure pills and the over all fatigue must have made me susceptible to the flu virus floating around the damned hospital.

Sunday the symptoms kicked in but as always I paid no attention to them, and flatly refused to see a doctor. Come Monday I felt I was on my death bed, I just wanted to die. So I caved in… To the docs it was!

Doctors are sadist I tell you! He prescribed some HUGE yucky pills. So with my revulsion of pills that has lead to several, hour long show-downs with them before breaking them into teeny tiny pieces and swallowing them, you can bet I couldn’t keep these meds down. And since my only nutrition intake has been tea, I puke it all out. I’m stomach’s been empty for about 2 days now.

I just HATE pills. First I tried taking one and then stuffing my mouth with chocolate. Unfortunately, my taste buds aren’t working right making the dark Toblerone taste absolutely revolting!

I might have painted a rather ugly picture of my sis to some of the bloggers at a recent meet up… I feel a bit guilty about that now. She only goes loco when she’s stressed out. She’s been checking on me at odd hours of the night and solved my I-hate-meds-so-much-that-I-puke-them-out problem by crushing the tablets and mixing it with honey for me. And that worked brilliantly!

Anyhow, having an immune system like mine, I should be up and about soon enough. Although I was looking forward to watching my blood being drawn out…

Creative juices

I like to dabble in all things creative. Although since I’ve developed quite a few creative interests, I haven’t been able to devote my time to and fully explore one in particular. No qualms there anyway, I like to think of myself as a sort of Jack of all trades but a King of none.

Of my creative interest, I’m best at sketching. Some of my sketches can be found here and here. Not half bad at painting, my most recent work can be found here. I write poetry, one of my poems can be found here.

I write short stories as well, but most people can’t seem to appreciate the macabre nature of them. So I’ll keep them to myself.

Beside that there’s music… possibly my weakest creative interest. I don’t think I’ll be able to compose music EVER but I practice playing rock songs on my guitar (it has to be rock!). I haven’t got any links for that though. I haven’t followed our in-house maestro,  Gehan’s example and made a headless videos of myself  strumming my guitar. You can call me macabre, morbid, whatever you will but cruel is what I’m not, I’ve spared you all the torture that my household is subjected to when I pick up my guitar.

I’ve also tried my hand at photography. However, I haven’t been able to explore that avenue since all I’ve got is my sister’s Nikon DSLR… when she isn’t looking! She’s very protective about her precious camera. Of course you can’t blame her. I have a nasty track record for losing things and I happen to be a klutz- I have a tendency to trip and drop things (often both at the same time).

Anyway I decided to try my hand at concept photography recently. I’ve posted two pics below. Will put up the rest later- whenever I’m struck with a bout of writer’s block.

Attribution: The origami cranes were constructed by my li’l bro. Waiting for my mom at the hospital he was so bored he made 11 cranes!

The Alpha Male

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The Oddball

It’s genetic

I look up from my crossword puzzle distracted by the continuous “clicking”.

My mom’s playing with my dad’s cigarette lighter… flicking it aflame and then off. After a few minutes of flicking, she gives me a mischievous sideways glance and with a glint of sinister in her eyes, she asks “shall I burn your little fingers?”

And only I would find that adorable and grin from ear to ear.

Yeah, I get it from my mom. My morbid tendencies, that is.